Reminders
by SmudgeInktopus
Summary: Yuuri has good days and Bad Days. When the world feels off-center, when he can't think past his failures, when he can't get out of bed and try, that's a Bad Day. But Victor was always there to remind him that he is never alone.


It's another Bad Day. They happened every once in a while, and Yuuri had ways of coping, but something about the weight of expectation clinging to his ribs is different today. Unlike typical Bad Days, which could be explained away with the wave of a hand, a slow-stretched smile, or a proper sigh, today clings to his clothes and pulls him down into the sheets, burrowing under his skin like a toxic love that only comes around when it needs something from you. And today it needs his energy, needs to drain it in long, languid gulps every time Yuuri thinks about getting up and living. The world just feels too big. His ankles ache from a particularly nasty fall the day before. The collar of his shirt isn't sitting right at the notch of his throat, threatening to choke him even though it has nothing to grasp but the tendrils of worry leaking from his mind. Maybe he isn't ready for this season, maybe he needs another month, he shouldn't have started so late, he shouldn't have kept Victor from practicing just because he had a minor problem with his choreography. He shouldn't bother anyone; his issues weren't major, anyway. He could live with it. It's what he'd been doing for years before he packed up his life and moved to Russia, thousands of miles from his family and the life he thought he'd sentenced himself to in early retirement. Retirement was a comfort. Leaving wasn't easy, but it was his choice, and he was fine with it. Maybe he should have stuck with it. If people say he's so determined, why give up on that, of all things? It's not like anyone expected him to keep going. Skating is what he loves, yes, but he isn't a five-time world champion. He's nothing special, really. Just dime-a-dozen Yuuri, who failed miserably at his first Grand Prix and ran away into obscurity after embarrassing himself in front of pretty much the entire ISU.

The bedroom door cracks open, a thin line of morning light rushing in from the world outside the four most comfortable walls in Yuuri's life. Outside the ones in his head, of course. Yuuri curls in on himself, pulling the pale grey sheets around his ears, hiding from the person he loves most.

"Yuuri?" Victor's voice is quiet in the early calm of pre-10am Sunday existence. He sounds worried. Another tally for guilt. Minutes pass in gentle silence before he speaks again. "Are you awake?" The light from the door widens like a sunrise in miniature and all Yuuri wants to do is slam it closed. Victor shouldn't have to suffer his bad days, too. He is Yuuri's bright spot, and he can't let the gloom of his anxiety ruin him like it ruins everything.

From his cocoon, Yuuri hears the light padding of socked feet on the bedroom floor and all he can think about is how tired he is. Of the non-stop thinking, of the worry that feeds every doubt and makes it worse, of the fist around his throat and the vice on his heart, of the way his arms and legs and hips and ribs ache from the effort of not falling apart. Today is not a "doing" day.

"Yuuri?" Victor asks again, closer this time, right at the edge of the mattress on his side of the bed. Then there's a hand on his shoulder and Yuuri sucks in a breath to drown the tears and keep them inside where Victor can't see. The hand retreats, and the mattress dips at his back. "Can I…?" He doesn't finish his sentence. He nods, unsure if Victor can discern the movement from the shaking of his shoulders, but he must, because his arms are around him and pulling him tight and holding and being there. All of the tension in Yuuri's body releases at once and he turns, pressing his face into Victor's neck and breathing in air that doesn't taste like regret. He could never regret Victor. Never, no matter what his brain tells him.

"Can I show you something?" he murmurs into Yuuri's hair. "We don't have to move."

Yuuri nods, his nose brushing Victor's collarbones. He can feel Victor's smile before he turns to grab something from the night stand. Yuuri feels a light push on his chest and he pulls back, following Victor's unspoken instructions and sits up, propped against his shoulder. In front of them is Victor's phone. His fingers dance across the touch screen, pulling up the notes app and selecting one titled "On My Love 1."

Yuuri cranes his neck around to look at his fiancee, mouth still drawn in a frown but eyes curious.

"I made this for you," he says, and Yuuri looks back at the phone and sees a list. The longest list he's ever seen, full of links and quoted passages and names and titles. "I've been keeping track of what people say about you." There it is again, that lung-vice rub-clinging panic-worry, filling his chest and making tally marks on his bones. "All the good things. Look, here's one of Minami's Twitter posts from a few months ago," he says, tapping a link and reading out loud. "'Finally met my idol and best skater ever Katsuki Yuri, my life will never be the same. Thank you for all your inspiration, Katsuki-sensei!'"

Yuuri is still, eyes glaring holes into the skin of his hands. That can't be true, can it? He's not… he's not the best. A dime-a-dozen, not even that good. How could Minami's life be different after just having met him? Does he really have that much of an impact?

"Here's another, from katsudamniceking on Tumblr," Victor says, tapping another link. "It's a video of your free skate at the GPF, and underneath there's a comment."

Yuuri steels himself and lifts his head just enough to read the words on the screen.

 _Y'all he did this with ANXIETY. I can't even get out of bed most days! Katsuki Yuuri you are the most amazing person in the world istg._

Victor swipes back to the list. "This is one of my favorites. Well, they're all my favorites, but I like this one the best, I think." And he pulls up a screen shot of an email. "It's long, so I'll read it for you." He clears his throat like a fancy orator about to speak at the United Nations and Yuuri can't help but laugh a little bit, the sound tight and thin, but there all the same. Victor beams. "'Dear Mr. Nikiforov.' My, so official. 'I hope you are having a good off-season. I am looking forward to the programs you have prepared for competition next season! But I am not writing to talk about that, I am writing to talk about Katsuki Yuuri, your student and partner,' and theres a question mark in parenthesis, which is ridiculous, did they not see Barcelona?" Yuuri pokes Victor in the ribs, right where he's ticklish, and smirks at the squeak he gets in response. "Alright, alright. 'I couldn't find his contact information, and I just wanted to say how proud I am of him, and how much he has inspired me in my own life.'"

Victor pauses and the quiet in the room grows heavy. He picks up again, his voice a little thicker, "I have suffered from anxiety and depression for my whole life. There have been days when I have felt like I shouldn't be here, or I should just end it and let everyone get on with their own lives without me in the way. I didn't feel like this all the time, but I did feel like this most of the time. I didn't see a way out of feeling like the world expected too much of me. I started figure skating when I was eight years old. My parents said it would be good for me to have a hobby. I love skating and I eventually got good enough to enter competitions. The only thing stopping me was my anxiety. I was afraid to get on the ice because what if everyone thinks I'm terrible? What if I fall and embarrass myself? What if I lose, or mess up so badly I can't recover, and my parents are disappointed in me? So I stopped going to competitions and kept skating as a hobby. It was what I went to when I felt scared, or sad, or like my whole body hurt for no reason, when that reason was my depression. My brain knew that but my body didn't, so I used skating as a way to work through it. It helped, but not as much as I'd hoped. That's when I saw Katsuki Yuuri skate for the first time. I was watching a stream of that year's senior division qualifiers and I couldn't take my eyes off the screen during both his performances.'" Victor pauses again and looks down at Yuuri, whose eyes are riveted to the screen, and presses a light kiss to his hair. Yuuri can't believe what he's hearing.

"'I watched every performance, talked about his skating on forums, and absorbed every bit of information I could on him. I met my best friends on the forums, and they helped me reach out to get the help I needed. And I got back on the ice for real again, entering adult competitions and actually competing. If Yuuri could do it, then I could at least try. Then I heart about his anxiety. And I didn't feel alone anymore. Katsuki Yuuri broke Victor Nikiforov's record with anxiety, got to the GPF with anxiety, and medaled at every competition with anxiety. Watching Yuuri skate and win made me realize that I could do everything my brain told me I couldn't. So I just wanted to say thank you, for helping bring him back to skating for the best season I have ever seen. And that I'm proud of you, and I'm proud of me, too.'"

Yuuri has trouble seeing himself for who and what he really is. He knows this. He knows that he can be hard on himself, and that he can hurt himself when he doesn't mean to, and hurt other people when he doesn't mean to, but he didn't know how much his skating truly meant to people. How much he meant to people. And Victor has a whole list of all the good things people say about him. How long did it take him to get all that? How long has he been collecting the hope and happiness of the people who love him just in case Yuuri felt bad one day? How could he deserve this man in his life?

No. He does deserve Victor. He's worked too hard not to. He's fought for this happiness and he's earned it, in a way. He won't let his doubts take that away.

"Yuuri?" Victor sets his phone down on the bed, his hand moving to brush through Yuuri's hair. Yuuri presses into him, turning just enough to lay his head in the crook of Victor's neck, and sinks into the warmth that radiates from his heart.

"Thank you," Yuuri mumbles into Victor's skin, words muffled but earnest. Victor hums. Yuuri feels it in his bones.

"Do you want to call Phichit?"

Yuuri shakes his head.

"Do you want to read more?"

Yuuri nods. Victor smiles and picks up his phone. He sits up a bit, pushing Yuuri more upright, and holds out his phone. "Here."

He takes Victor's phone and scans the list, which is too long for just one memo. He taps the screen, going back to the main screen, and his eyes widen in shock. Five. There are five of these lists on the app. All labeled "On My Love." Victor grins and pulls him close, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.

"Number three is my favorite."

Yuuri opens it and starts reading.

 ** _quadaxl:_** _my daughter brought a signed poster of Katsuki Yuuri to class for show and tell because she says he makes her feel brave. im crying_

 ** _Nikisuki_** _: how is Katsuki even a real person? 10/10 would die for him_

 ** _king2mysk8r_** _: yuuri gets world records AND victor? Not fair._

 ** _BladesOfMyLife_** _: had a panic attack at school today but then I remembered yuuri katsuki wins medals with anxiety and I stopped shaking and crying. thank you yuuri!_

 ** _Podiumdreams_** _: WWYKD? (what would yuuri katsuki do?)_

Yuuri places the phone on the bed, balancing it on Victor's leg, and turns to look at his fiance, eyes watery. Victor shifts and takes Yuuri's face in his hands.

"I'm not the only one who loves you, Yuuri. You inspire so many people in so many ways. I know it's hard to see it sometimes. I know it isn't easy for you to see how beautiful, how amazing, how absolutely incredible you are. But when you have trouble seeing it, or when you have a bad day, or you're feeling sad, know that you are loved by so many people. You are an inspiration. And I will be right here to show you whenever you need to remember." He leans in, presses a soft kiss to Yuuri's lips, lingering long enough to feel Yuuri smile against his mouth. "I love you, and I am so, so proud of you, solnyshko."

Sucking in a wavering breath, Yuuri touches his forehead to Victor's, feels his breath puff against his chin. Victor's words sink into Yuuri's mind, blanketing the bad thoughts and chasing them away. Worry is replaced by a fragile peace, bolstered by Victor's love. It isn't enough to fix everything in his head - nothing ever will be - but it's enough to pull him out of his Bad Day, to turn it around and let the morning sunlight warm it to the core. The world shrinks to the size of their room, with its eggshell walls and steel grey sheets, a dog bed in the corner and two pairs of shoes sitting just outside the closet. His aches fade into the background, the heat from Victor's skin and the gentle breeze of his breath alleviating the pain and pressure of his past mistakes on the ice. The vice around his heart loosens and falls away and Yuuri can breathe again, can use the full capacity of his athlete's lungs to whisper sweet somethings to the man he loves.

He never knew there were so many people on his side, standing in his corner ready to help him when he felt like he was losing the fight against his brain. He didn't have to do it alone. It's what he had been doing for years, but not anymore. Bad Days take away the memories of the good things, like Yuuko's pre-competition Skype calls, and his mother's weekly phone calls, and the stacks of letters he gets from the post office covered in international stamps and all addressed to him. But they don't stay away. He has Victor and Phichit and Yuuko and Yurio and five lists of names and comments and letters and posts to remind him.

It isn't a "doing" day, no. But it isn't a Bad Day, either. Not anymore.


End file.
